


Impala Club

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cars, Gen, Grumpy Old Men, Happy, Impala, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Old Age, Old Friends, One Shot, Teen Dean, Teen Dean Winchester, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is 18 and just finished his first solo job. He stops to talk cars with a couple of diner patrons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impala Club

Singing along to “We Will Rock You” and drumming his fingers on the wheel of his car -- _his_ car, Dean Winchester was in excellent spirits when he pulled a the 24-hour waffle house off I-70. His dad had trusted him to get rid of a ghost on his own, and he pulled it off without a hitch. He was going to be so proud of him. After driving most of yesterday and unearthing a grave all night, he was tired. Nothing some well-earned coffee and pancakes couldn’t fix. No, screw pancakes. He deserved French toast.

Before he set foot inside, he knew he’d picked the right diner. A ‘67 Chevrolet Impala just like his only pale green sat proudly in the parking lot. He whistled low as he walked around it. His dad had always taken pride in their car, one of the very few things they owned, and had instilled the same pride in him. _“Now tighten this bolt here, Dean. Whoa, not too tight! Gotta watch those strong arms of yours.”_ It was nice to see someone else felt the same way.

The moment he opened the door, a couple of old men at the counter started waving at him. “You the boy with my car?” asked a jolly-looking man in his early-fifties. He had fluffy brown curls and a caterpillar mustache.

“Whew! Are you even old enough to be drivin’?” laughed the sallow man in a WWII veterans’ cap beside him. “I swear kids are gettin’ younger and younger.”

“Jimmy, stop it. You’ll scare him. Come sit with us, kid. What’s your name, and how’d you get such good taste in cars?”

“Name’s Dean. She was my dad’s actually. He passed her to me a few months ago for my eighteenth birthday.”

It was Jimmy’s turn to whistle. “Eighteen! Boy, I remember turning eighteen. I swabbed the deck in the morning. Got shot at in the afternoon. He gets a car!”

“That’s all you ever did in the Navy. Swab the deck and get shot at. Bet you walked uphill to school both ways, didn’t you?”

“In the snow,” Jimmy confirmed with a chuckle.

“I’m Don.” He hollered at the waitress down the counter, “Linda, can you get Dean same as I had? We like the same things.”

“Two dots and a dash with dirty water coming up. He gonna want breakfast virtue like you too?”   

Looking down at Don’s cherry pie, Dean smile and said “Absolutely!”

“So Dean, your daddy gave you a 67 Impala. You know how to take care of her?” Don pointed at the car with a fork full of cherry pie nearly losing some of the crust on the floor.

“Yes, sir. I’ve been workin’ on her my whole life.” Dean said. “Rebuilt the engine last year.”

“Rebuilt it? Why didn’t you just swap it? That’s faster.” Jimmy said, but Don was rolling his eyes already. “Everybody’s going crazy with this ‘original’ stuff. It ain’t a show car. You just gotta make it run. Don’t be so precious. Ever’body’s so damn precious. It’s a car. It’s a tool.” Dean noticed Don was mouthing this speech along with Jimmy, but Jimmy didn’t seem to notice or care if he did.

“Anyway, Dean.” Don said, leaving Jimmy to his grumbling. “So, what made you rebuild the engine.”

“The challenge... and the money. Plus, you need to keep her original. That’s a great engine.” Dean said. “We got a friend with a junkyard. All those cars around that time have the same parts. There were plenty to pull from. Plus, he had the tools. I thought it made more sense than tryin’ to fit a whole different engine in there.”

“This boy’s alright.” Don said, nudging Jimmy who waved him off with a grumble.

The men stared out at the cars together, after a few beats, Jimmy said, “I notice you have the correct version of the car--a four-door.”

“Yes, sir. It’s got better lines. Plus, there’s more room.”

“Ah ha!” Don said. Jimmy chucked behind him. “This young man understands the value of such a spacious backseat.” The older men roared. Dean smiled at the counter and fiddled with the coffee cup turned over on its saucer.

“Those were the days,” Don sighed, drifting off into memories for a moment. “You’re right about that engine. You can’t beat it. Well, in a race maybe you can, but it will go forever for ya. And it’s straightforward. You can fix it when it’s breaks and keep it running for next to nothing.”

“You can’t even work on these new cars,” Jimmy added. “They’re practically disposable.”

“They don’t have the class,” Dean offered.

“That’s right,” the older pair said in unison.

“You know,” Don said, now fullying swivelling on the stool to face the cars. “Most ‘car guys’ don’t have any appreciation for these cars. They think they were just grocery getters, complain they didn’t handle that great.”

“It’s a shame,” Jimmy added. “Nobody wants these things. If they have them at all they have the two-door. You never see one of these at those classic car shows.”

“Ah,” said Don. “Those shows are full a’ trailer queens too fancy to drive. They’ve got perfect paint jobs and professional detailing. I take care of my car, but I drive it places. She’s a car. She shouldn’t be cooped up like that.”

“Mine goes all over the country,” Dean said. “I fix her as we go. She’s livin’.”

Don clapped Dean in the shoulder. “So what else you done to her?”

“I’ve probably replaced nearly every part at some point, or my dad did. I had to sand down some rust and weld in a new bit near the rear tire after, uh, a weird accident last year. Can hardly tell though.”

“I’ll have to get a closer look. Hear that Jimmy? The boy can weld. This kid’s no slouch.”

“It ain’t swabbin’ the decks.”

“No, sir,” Dean said. At this, the old man smiled and nodded a little.

“What’s your favorite thing about her?”

“She reminds me of home. Of family. Practically grew up in that backseat. Just finished my first solo trip ‘cross the country, can’t wait to get back to my dad and baby brother an’ tell ‘em all about it.”

“See, Jimmy, Dean’s a family guy. Nice kid. I think he passes. Whadaya say?”

“Only because he’s just passing through.”

“Alright! Jimmy an’ I got this little Impala club, you see.”

“Until they took my license away,” grumbled Jimmy to his coffee.

“But your car is still sitting pretty in your garage. Anyway, I got mine new in ‘67. My very first new car. I had to buy mine. I was 21 when I got my Darlin’ out there. I’d had a heap before that, a rusted-out ‘49 Ford, but it taught me to work on cars, and it got me Darlin’. I drove deliveries in that heap at the crack of dawn before workin’ a full day at this very diner. I kept my nights open for dates.

“My friends were all spendin’ everything they had on flashy muscle cars, but not me. I got something practical, affordable, a car that would last forever. Plus, I had money left to take girls out, and the back seat to make it worth it.” Don cackled and slapped Dean on the back. Dean figured Don saw even more action in his backseat than Dean had, yet.

“My wife bought me my car,” Jimmy said. “It was two years old when she got it. She spent three years secretly takin’ in laundry without me knowin’ to get up the money. She made a bow to put on top of it an’ everything. Put a little cake on the dashboard for my birthday. She was a hard workin’ woman. Good woman.” At this Jimmy turned back to the counter and looked straight ahead. Don did the decent thing and changed the subject.

“We’re heading to the junkyard today. I’m looking for a new fender. Mine’s near rusted off and I think the alternator’s goin’.Wanna come? We could use some 20/20 vision and younger arms, er, I mean, company.”

Dean turned over his mug for Linda. “Sounds mighty fine to me,” he said before tucking into his bacon and eggs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my tumblr friend dontlickyourscreen for co-authoring this. Don and Jimmy may return. We kind of like them.


End file.
